Tales of Lancerus II: The Battle of the Sons of Gildor part I
Read the Epilogue after Tigahn's Plea July 22nd, 1017 It was early morning when the first horn blew. Darshia and Tigahn had arranged to attack Leva Adium at the same time; in this way, Nashuss would be unable to defend against them both. Once the despot was overthrown, the two other Sons of Gildor would battle for supremacy. Tigahn's men rode to war in the western shadow of Leva Adium. An experienced soldier, Tigahn had erected siege towers and battering rams to force his way into the city. He and Darshia had made a solemn vow not to use trebuchet; they wanted to conquer the city, not destroy it. Tigahn was true to his word. Tigahn stood at the front of his forces, watching the city prepare for his onslaught in the early morning dawn. One of his soldiers approached from behind. "Sir, the Maidens would like a word." Tigahn breathed the still air and sighed. "Very well, they shall meet me in the war room." At the heart of Tigahn's approaching force was a massive tent that peaked above the rest. Maps of the city, as well as weapons of war, littered the canvas interior. As Tigahn entered with his soldiers, several women turned to meet him. "Hello, General," said Calicana Fireborn. Tigahn did not respond immediately. He walked over to the far side of the table, across from where she stood, and sat upon a creaking wooden chair. His steel armor and wolf-fur cloak made an already massive man appear like a giant. "Glad to see you could come. Are you-" A bright light flickered from one of the other women. Tigahn turned, no small amount of confusion on his face, to see a broad smile and bright red hat adorn the face of a giddy young woman. She lowered the Picture Box in her hands, a rarity, and smiled at the picture she had just taken. "For posterity," she said, no shame in her voice. Ferrus, the last of the trio, rolled her eyes. "As I was saying," Tigahn resumed. "You will accompany the bulk of my forces into the heart of the city. Defer to my daughter, Emily. She will lead the first charge towards the Hall of Lords." "The Hall of Lords," Calicana said. "That is quite the strategic target, though Nashuss and Darshia will also vie heavily for its position." "There's something else. My son, Aygahn, is in that district of the city. He took an oath to defend the crown, so still he waits in the city. I begged for him to leave, but his pride as a Wolfknight did not allow him that privilege. I suppose I should have expected as much from a Dailar. Please, as Shieldmaidens, find him and keep him safe." Ferrus crinkled her face in confusion. "This is why I will never be Ser ''Ferrus. Your son will fight against you because of what, honor? Tradition?" Tigahn said nothing. He looked only to Calicana now. "We will do this," Calicana said. "If we can." Another flash of light from the picture box. Azzurra looked up, a smile on her face once more. "Huzzah for posterity!" Darshia's Speech To the eastern reaches of the city did Darshia and his forces gather. Though smaller in size than Tighan's army, many adventurers did rally to their cause, and Darshia had planted a great many spies within the city. As agreed upon with Tigahn in the weeks prior, Darshia would not destroy the city through siege weaponry or fire. His greatest hope was the people within the city rallying against Nashuss. Darshia stood before his men: heroes, renegades, farmers, soldiers, and those with hope for the future. "Men of Gildor, heed my words! We stand here today to rectify a great injustice done to your home." He looked down at the ground, his sword Maerwynn glistening in the rising sun. "Centuries ago a man named Arik Whitefang committed unspeakable crimes against Lancerus. He drove the West into terrible bloodshed, and for generations, his line was thought broken. I will not lie to you; I believe his punishment was just. He was not the man who ascended the throne, but a murderer in disguise. And I am his son." The army looked on to their leader. "But the Seven have given us a chance to redeem humanity for its sins. A Whitefang delivered Lancerus into darkness, and a Whitefang will bring it back to the light!" He pulled his sword from the ground and pointed it behind him to the city of Leva Adium. The Citadel peaked above, the pinnacle of the great city of the West. "Nashuss Khal has foregone the will of the people and the will of the Seven. By our hands, we will reign justice upon him! Tigahn would say the throne is his, but my response is this: the throne is yours!" He pointed his sword to the army. They raised their weapons in response, a war cry stirring in their throats. "Today we speak with our swords and arrows. Today we give Gildor back to the people. Seven guide us!" The soldiers roared, "Seven guide us!" Lachlan and the Soans The siege quickly became an assault on all fronts. Tigahn and Darshia, though enemies, realized that neither would gain the throne if they did not first dispose of Nashuss' fortifications. They attacked at the same time, the militia within the city spread thin to protect all fronts. Tigahn, using his siege towers, led his armies over the walls and through the gates. Darshia, meanwhile, used his spy network to open the gates from within and flood the city with his supporters. Soon, Leva Adium was in chaos. As districts became hubs of bloodshed, Nashuss' defenders were caught in the middle. They were the enemies to both sides, and there was nowhere to run. Braestone way had erupted in chaos as civilians attempted to some safer place within the city. Ser Aygahn Dailar was directing as many as he could to safety as the forces of Darshia and Tigahn clashed before him. Three soldiers broke away from the battle and pointed their weapons at Aygahn. He sent his soldiers to slow them as he moved the last of the nearby civilians away. The first two soldiers were ragged of garb but lean of muscle and bore either war paint or blood-smeared faces. Their long hair bellowed behind them. "This Soan shall feast tonight," Banan said under his breath. "We have to kill him first," Mars said in return, his sword arm twitching for combat. The third man, armor speckled with blood, ran between the pair and readied a glaive. "You could have waited, you know," he said, out of breath. "This armor is heavy and its hot as shit out today." "Complain later," Banan said. "Eat now." Aygahn's soldiers ran at the three. Mars and Banan readied their shields in defense as Lachlan worked his glaive between them like a butcher. One after another the soldiers fell, only able to scratch and scrape a meager drop of blood from the three. As they paired up once more, their eyes met with Aygahn. He drew his sword, his men dead, and walked towards them. A Wolfknight was no meager opponent, yet the skills of Mars, Banan and Lachlan were up to the challenge. "Save his thighs," Banan roared, "those are the best!" Aygahn held his own, drawing blood from exposed calf or bashing against preemptive strikes. Mars and Banan both withdrew from bleeding wounds, but as Aygahn moved in to further the damage, Lachlan met him with a monstrous swing. The blow rammed into the Wolfknight's shield with such force that his arm shattered behind it. As he roared in pain, the bleeding Soans pounced at the opening, their wounds doing little to slow them. Aygahn, despite a life of service and good intentions, died a horrific death. Even as he gurgled in pain, the Soans were already removing bits of armor to feast on his body. "Wait," Lachlan said, "you were serious about eating him?" "His soul is strong," Mars said. "It would be a shame to let this power go to waste." "This is sick," Lachlan protested. "I can't be a part of this." "Then leave," Banan said, "or be next." Lachlan winced, unsure if he had chosen the right actions in this conflict, and left to rejoin the battle elsewhere. The Vix, the Skull, the Hammerind Sapientia scanned the horizon from her vantage point high upon the bell tower. She had killed the ringer and the two guards; Engrad was screaming profanities at the base of the construct as he ripped a soldier's helmet off to properly punch him in the face. "Engrad, to your left!" Sapi called from atop her perch. Engrad spun and threw the weight of his great axe into the assailant. The man was hit so hard that he shit himself as he spun through the air. When he landed, Engrad delivered a proper strike to the head, ending his life in a brain-scattering climax. Another enemy ran at Engrad from behind, too fast for him to see, and restrained him. A dagger fumbled near Engrad's side, yet he grappled with his assailant to hold it at bay. "Sapi!" Engrad shouted. "We have a feisty one, here!" She jumped from her perch and, Elven reflexes honed to inhuman precision, landed atop the attacker's head. His neck crumpled under the weight. His body went limp. "You alright?" Sapientia said. "Yeah, could use a strong-ass drink, though. Did you see Illiv?" "No, but I trust him. He'll be alright... I think." Engrad smiled. "If he dies I get to lead." "Of course, fearless leader," Sapientia said, a mockery in her voice. "Let's see how you do against this challenge, then." She gestured to an approaching soldier, a bow in their hand. "Get behind me," Sapientia said. The new enemy drew an arrow and loosed it, striking Sapientia's shield and deflecting to the side. As she moved to counter, another enemy appeared from behind the bowman ready to meet her advance. She stopped. She would need Engrad to break them. "An Elf!" Said the bowman. "Isn't that curious. Can I interest you in a quality set of daggers?" Sapientia and Engrad looked to one another in confusion, then back to the bowman. "Are you saying you're going to stab us?" Engrad said. "Oh no," he replied. "Trying to sell you on my weapons! Some of the finest in Oden, if I do say so myself." Sapientia noticed the bear helmet on his head. The other attacker, a lithe man with a massive hammer, stared them down with cautious indifference. "My name is Laulterec Hammerind," the bowman proudly proclaimed, "and this man here is Flesh... Flish?..." "Fleischwolf," he said. "The Skulls send their regards, and are ever ''thankful for your meddling with the affairs of Shamus." "I mean," Engrad said, "it wasn't even hard. For a 'master thief' he's not terribly sharp, is he?" Sapientia smiled. Fleischwolf scowled, his hammer rising for impending battle. Laulterec seemed amused, and brought a tankard to his lips. "Anyways," Engrad said, "shall we fight, then?" "Hold on," Laulterec said, still drinking. They waited. And waited. "Ah, very good brew," the smith said, lowering the empty vessel. "Alright, ''now ''we fight!" The Decision and the Phantoms "And I thought Akron had problems," Cynar winced as he crunched the head of a Tigahn supporter. He stood before one of the doorways of the Citadel, blocking all who would attack Nashuss. "Why are we doing this again?" Elzarick said as he wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. "Because you might gain insight to your problems, and I might gain access to Nashuss' stash of cigars," Cynar said. "Yes, I get that, but why with ''him?" ''Elzarick pointed to the gaunt, painted man to Cynar's left. The man, visage of a skeleton, surveyed the battlefield with unyielding resolve. "He rather just showed up, didn't he..." Illiv turned to the pair, his twin swords wet with blood, and met their gaze with stoicism. "I'm looking for a girl, I figured the Citadel would be the best place to wait for her." "And you're going to kill anyone who tries to get in?" "This battle is the will of the Gods, and I am their servant." "Okay then," Elzarick said. "I'm going to stand over here," he said as he walked to the far edge of the platform. At the base of the stairs to the door, a platoon of soldiers arrived. They wore the crest of Darshia, though they seemed soldiers of the Wolfknights. Their commander, Althalos Stonegate, then appeared behind them. Cynar smiled. "That's the one, Elzarick. The defector." Illiv, curious, turned his eye to Althalos. Though obviously a Wolfknight, he fought for Darshia now. He had forsaken his holy oath to the crown, yet Illiv understood and even rooted for the man. Cynar seemed to sense his confliction. "If you stay," Cynar said, "you will have to fight him." From the tower, Illiv could see not only Althalos but the shape of a conflict near the district bell tower. The distinctive shape of his friends, the Vix, could be seen even from here. They were cornered. "You could leave now," Cynar said, "but if you do, you'll miss your God." Illiv turned, surprised Cynar had known this. "What do you know of Unquala?" "Only what I need to. My friend Elzarick here may have need of her as well. But you're running out of time, skeleton man. Make your choice." The soldiers approached. Illiv's mind raced. "I suppose," Illiv said, "that Unquala will have to wait. After all, the Vix must meet with her together." Cynar lit a cigar in his mouth and smiled. "Then go." Illiv burst into a sprint down the alleys, his blades dancing like extensions of his arm. He cut down any in his path, ensuring that his secret chosen king, Darshia, would have at least one more path to the throne. "Finally," Elzarick said, "he gave me the creeps." "Talk later," Cynar said, readying his spear and sword. "We have a horde to kill." The soldiers, Althalos at their head, thought the Akronians easy prey at the power of their vast numbers. Not one would live to regret that assumption. You Shall Not Pass The northern districts saw the most chaos. The crowded alleyways and city streets hampered combat, as neither side wanted to harm innocent civilians. Amidst the claustrophobia one man danced between obstacles. Lucian LaChance, his face a beaming smile, cut through unsuspecting enemies with a tune on his lips and a spring in his step. He fought for Tigahn, and Darshia's soldiers had great trouble with the slippery rogue. Then, a spear thrust at his thigh. Lucian evaded by the width of a hair and withdrew. A lone spearman now stood in his path. "Well well, a captive audience," Lucian said. "And what is your name, good sir?" The spearman relaxed, amused. "My name is Atrinian, and you picked the wrong side." "I agree," Lucian said. "I would much rather be on that side," he pointed to the Citadel. "So if you don't mind, I'll be going now." He took a step forward. Atrinian's spear said otherwise. The thrust nicked Lucian's cheek, forcing him to side-step or be thrust again in the neck. Despite his quick feet, Atrinian's thrusts were equally nimble. A sharp feint followed by a hard swing saw Lucian tumble into the cobblestone, his hair now wet with blood. "What's wrong, Lucian?" Atrinian taunted. "Never danced with a Half-Elf before?" "On the contrary," Lucian said, rising from the ground, "I've danced with plenty. But you see, women always seem to outstep me..." "What does that - are you implying I am a woman?" "That cloak does look very dashing on you..." A shield caught Atrinian in the side, sending him flying into a stack of crates. Dazed but uninjured, he readied his spear to meet this new threat. A woman, shield at the ready, helped Lucian to the now open pathway. "Many thanks, March," Lucian said. "I would love to give you a performance later to show my gratitude!" "Please, don't," she said. "Hey," Atrinian said, rising for another bout. "Where do you think you're going?" "You know what they say, my good friend," Lucian said with a bow. "Discretion is the better part of valor. Until the next performance!" He sprinted away, far faster than Atrinian could hope to catch. March remained, her sword drawn. "Are you going to finish me?" Atrinian said. "No," March replied. "That's too messy. But he might." She pointed behind him. Atrinian glanced to see none other than Tigahn himself approaching with a company of well trained soldiers. Atrinian, without a word, ducked away as fast as he could and sprinted to rejoin the bulk of his forces. Perhaps Lucian was right about one thing... pick your battles. Broken Friendships Morric breathed heavy. His arm ached after firing some 80 arrows into the opposition. Amarka stood beside him atop the roof from where they now loosed their ammunition. "Morric, what news from the river!" Ferrus cried as her and the other Maidens approached from a nearby bridge over the canal. "The Hall of Lords is almost overrun with Darshia supporters. We've done what we can but..." "Aygahn," Calicana said. "We might be too late." "We have many wounded here," Morric said. "We can't advance, not with these casualties." "Go," Azzurra said from behind. "I will get them to safety." It was then that the Maidens noticed Amarka on the roof. A ferociousness loomed between them. "Amarka," Ferrus said curtly. "Ferrus," Amarka said, no hint of fondness to be heard. "Enough of this," Calicana said. "If we can't save Aygahn than at least let us save whoever is left. To the Hall!" Ferrus and Calicana ran deeper into enemy territory. Amarka remained passive as stone. What may once have been a bond of steel had rusted away. Only the will of Tigahn remained. Like Old Times Nex spun in a deadly arc, his sword cleaving into a Nashuss soldier's collarbone as his shield collided with another's spine. Sinthaster thrust his spear into the heart of an assailant, his Darkmoon emblem splattered with blood. He raised his shield to block an arrow; as he brought it up above his head, Greyne stepped atop it and launched. He descended upon a horde of approaching enemies and cut them down like a sickle harvesting wheat. "Not bad, Darkmoon," Nex said as he pulled his sword from the dying man at his feet. "Still sharp after all this time." "It's all him," Sinthaster said, gesturing to Greyne. "I just take the credit after the battle is over." Greyne sighed. "He's not wrong." Nex laughed. "If Sin didn't have you, Greyne, who else would he give orders to?" "Hopefully Aurilus," Greyne said, eyeing his captain. "Careful Squire Vanguard," Sinthaster said. "Don't have me order you to climb something again." The trio rushed through a narrow bridge over a canal, dropping bodies to the sides as they went. As they reached the clearing, they saw a host of great number. There, at the head, was a Wolfknight. "Ser Cassius Khal," Sinthaster said. "Nashuss' son?" Greyne asked. "Well, shit just got interesting." "Enemies of the crown," Cassius called. "You will not reach the Citadel this day. By order of my father, King Nashuss, I will bleed you into the river and throw your bodies to the crows." "Nashuss is no King," Sinthaster said. "And the Darkmoon will see Judgment come to him." "Sinthaster," Cassius said. "You are a poison. My father called you an ally for years, and yet here you are, ready to bring your sword to his neck." "I was his ally up until the moment he put the desires of the crown before the desires of the Gods. I kneel to the true King, my Lord Commander, and the Seven above. Nashuss is none of those." "Then you have chosen your fate." Cassius readied his weapons, and ordered his soldiers to charge. "Greyne," Sinthaster barked, "take the right flank. Distract Cassius. Nex and I will eradicate the bulk of the enemy forces." "Aye captain!" Greyne said, sprinting into position. "Fight together!" "Never die!" Sinthaster shouted in response. "I hope you know what you're doing," Nex said, preparing his shield for the onslaught. "Lean not on thy own understanding, Nex. The will of the Seven will see us through." Nex saw the visage of Lidiya in his mind's eye and smiled. "Yeah, I suppose they will." The Stranger The Sept of Matthias had little strategic value to any of the lords and was set aside for the healing and shelter of the wounded. Throngs of broken families and wounded men were hurried to the gates, Keirina took charge to guide them. Mothers and their infants wailed in the hot summer son as their firstborns fought for their version of the truth; Keirina would not let such sadness take her. "Quickly now," she said to the moving crowd, "Into the Sept. The Seven will keep you safe." She carried a dagger on her leg, to aid the Seven in that goal... if it came to that. As the priests moved through the injured masses, Keirina stepped outside of the massive cathedral and breathed the air. It didn't smell of battle, despite the clashing of steel that kept ringing in her ears. Neither side had used fire, nor were cavalry prevalent in the narrow streets. Nothing burned, the smell of beast was absent; it made the attack seem all that much more estranged. Had it really needed to happen? Was there truly no other way? "Excuse me?" Keirina turned to see a beautiful maiden, a hint of Elven blood to her fair complexion, carrying a wounded soldier. "Sweet woman," she said, "he needs help." Keirina gasped. It was Aurilus. She rushed to his side, examining his wounds. No visible puncture wounds, yet blood dripped from his mouth. He was unconscious. "What happened?" Keirina asked of the woman. "I don't know, I only found him a few moments ago. Will he be alright?" Keirina pressed her ear to his chest and did all she could to block out the sounds of screaming civilians. A heartbeat. "He's alive," Keirina said, "but I don't know for how much longer. Something cracked a rib, maybe several. For all I know he could have punctured a lung." Keirina looked up from Aurilus' face and extended a hand. "Thank you. My name is Keirina." "Faye, sweet woman," she replied. "What can I do to help?" An arrow skimmed the bridge of Keirina's nose, embedding itself in a wooden cart behind her. She jumped to see two archers, the symbol Nashuss, aiming at civilians. The were young, far from the battle, and were fulfilling twisted fantasies of power. "Cowards!" Keirina said. "You had best not trifle with innocent people." "Yeah? Or what, Darkmoon?" One of the archers turned his bow towards Keirina. She did not flinch. Faye stood and shielded both Keirina and aurilus with her form. "Please," she begged, "these people are unarmed, wounded... they are of no threat to you!" "All my life I've been a slave to the whims of wealthy cunts," the older archer said. "One king will replace another and nothing will change. I might not make it out of this alive, better have fun while I can." Both archers pulled their bowstrings taut. An arrow flew the air and pierced the chest of one of the archers, felling him with a loud thud. The other recoiled and loosed his own towards the mysterious new assailant. It found no mark, and a screaming arrow buried itself into the coward's forehead. Keirina turned to see a large mountain of a man, a shield, mace and longbow on his person, smiling at his accuracy. He rushed to the two woman. "Are you alright, Keirina? Faye?" The two women looked at each other. "Yes, thank you." The new man stooped low, his peppered hair like the mane of a lions and his beard braided into seven rows. He pulled a bottle from his pack and lathered his hands in the contents. He pressed them to Aurilus' chest. Aurilus heaved and expelled the contents of his stomach. Blood dribbled down his face. "Seven save me!" Keirina gasped, hugging her Darkmoon brother. The man stood a breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't have much of this," he said, gesturing to the bottle. "I save it for those who I think will make a difference this day." Aurilus, without a word, jumped in front of the strange man and deflected an arrow with his shield. The man laughed with thunder in his voice, bringing his own shield up in defense of this new threat. "See? I knew you'd make a difference." Across the way, forces of Tigahn were advancing. The were not crossing to attack the Sept, but rather to cut off Darshia's forces from behind. Aurilus and Keirina both recognized Amarka and Morric at their head. Aurilus made to leave but Keirina held him back. "What are you doing?" She said. "Fighting." "You just got back on your feet, stay and rest!" He turned to her, his eyes filled with Húrin's rage. "If I wanted to rest, I would have stayed in the country. Stay here, keep tending to the sick. You're good at it." He smiled, a rarity to most. "He helped," she said, pointing to- wait... "Where did he go?" Keirina asked to Faye. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see," she said. As Keirina turned back to Aurilus he was already halfway to Tigahn's forces. "Aurilus!" Keirina yelled. He turned back, his sword glistening in the light. "Fight together!" She said, beginning the Darkmoon salute. "Never die!" He yelled back to her, finishing it. As Aurilus crossed the bridge, two soldiers stayed behind to pin him down. Morric, a stranger from across the Wraith Realm, and Amarka, a very old acquaintance from the days of Frogock the Rock. "Aurilus," Amarka said. "We can't let you go any further." He took a step. "Please," Morric added, "do as Amarka says. We don't need to lose any Darkmoon today." Aurilus began to jog. "If this is your choice, we cannot be held responsible for your fate!" Amarka roared at him, reluctant to pull the bow taut. Aurilus sprinted at them, his sword drawn and thirsting for blood. Amarka and Morric, seeing no alternative, loosed their arrows. Amarka's clipped his shield, yet Morric's slid into Aurilus' shoulder. He did not stop. Stunned, the pair of archers made to retreat but the Saint was already upon them. With deft swordplay he sliced Amarka's leg and kicked into the soft of their ribcage. Amarka plummeted into the river. He turned to Morric now, the arrow shaft still sticking into his body. "Will you yield?" Aurilus said. Morric slowly drew another arrow. "No." "Then let you be judged." A Brief Respite "So, why are you here?" Arneatheon asked. His sword was sheathed, his shield hung loosely at his side. This section of the city had been won for Darshia, and now they rested before pushing for the Citadel. "I'm looking for someone," Antro said. "And, you know, same as you: helping Darshia win the throne." In the far distance the bells of the Sept of Matthias tolled. Four times to signal that the southern district had been claimed, twice more to signify that Darshia had taken it. "It won't be long now," Arneatheon said. "Who is your friend?" "You wouldn't know him, you're not from around here." Arneatheon chuckled, pulled a small helping of bread from his pouch, and reveled in its yeasty goodness. "Try me." Antro looked at the visage of the Citadel as it rose from the clamber of spears below. "An old friend, Sinthaster of the Darkmoon." Arneatheon extended some of the bread to Antro. He declined. "Well," Arneatheon said, "what for? Would not a raven work to send a message?" "I can't send a message if the message is steel." Arneatheon raised an eyebrow. "You want to kill Sin?" "Maybe..." "It won't happen." Antro turned to him, his face contorted in confusion. "And why is that?" "I watched you fight. You're better than a soldier, no doubt, but if you fought Sinthaster as you are now? Well, the only one would be hearing the message of steel is you." "Thanks for the words of encouragement." "Also, you know, its wrong. Sinthaster is a good friend and ally, a member of a holy order and the Last Alliance, and I believe even fighting for the same king." "This goes beyond that." Arneatheon sighed, taking another bite of bread before stowing it away, and moved to put a shoulder on Antro. "Tell you what," he said. "Help us win the day, and we can talk this through over a long night of bread and beer." "You sure like bread a lot..." "And you don't? Come, let us help Darshia take what is rightfully his. The day is not won yet." Unquala Weeps It was late afternoon by the time the doors to the Citadel were broken in. Darshia had all but expelled the broken forces of Tigahn from the city; the spoils were now his, he just had to take them. As he and his soldiers climbed the stairs to victory, they were not met with a final grand stand. They were not met with men in armor, proud to die for the last hope of Nashuss. Rather, Darshia saw the broken would-be-king, his men disbanded, alone in the throne room. He sat slumped on the great seat of the King's power. His throat was sliced. A dagger hung loosely in his fingers. "By the Seven," one of the soldier's whispered. Several murmurings of "Unquala weeps" echoed through their ranks. Nashuss was no villain. At the base of his feet, Darshia saw a coiled scroll tied with a blue ribbon. He pulled it open and read silently to himself. "To the new King, I have just received word that my eldest son is dead. My city is a monument to bloodshed and failure. In every sense of the word, I have disgraced my lineage and forsaken my people. I wanted nothing more than to do the right thing. I do not think history will remember me as such. Please do not harm my family. They were innocent, as were the great people of this nation. Should you take Gildor, Tighan or Darshia, do well by the people. Make us strong again. Seven forgive me. Hail Gildor. Hail Lancerus. Nashuss Khal." Darshia rolled up the note and handed it to his lieutenant. "Where is Tigahn now?" "He has been captured my Lord, we await your instruction." Darshia breathed the heaviest air in the city of Leva Adium. "Keep him in the Dungeons of the Hall of Lords for now. The people of this city come first. Tell the city that Nashuss is dead. Tell them that Tigahn has been captured and his forces are to surrender." "Will you take the throne, my lord?" "Not until the city is safe. Come, we have much work to do." ......... Category:World Lore